Boston Avant-Garde: Impetuous

by Kaitlin Maitland

  Desiree stepped away from Nicolai’s side to meet Jackson head-on. “In your dreams, you arrogant prick. By the time you move in, I’ll have moved out. Have fun dealing with Selena’s constant bitching. You deserve it.”

  “Moving out doesn’t mean shit. Unless you’re planning to avoid every family function, event, or moment from now until eternity, I’ll show you exactly what’s in my dreams.”

  To her credit, Desiree didn’t back down or show fear, but Nicolai could sense her alarm. He was still trying to define that line between protective and overprotective, but he wasn’t about to let this asshole use some pathetic intimidation tactics on her right under his nose. She hadn’t done a damn thing but say no. That was no reason for her to have to deal with Jackson’s unwanted advances.

  Nicolai pinned Jackson with the gaze he saved for rich assholes who came into his bar. “I suggest you find someone else to harass. House rules don’t allow you to run your mouth any more than they allow me to put my foot in your ass to shut you up.”

  “Dante!” Jackson’s voice carried over the low hum of conversation and brought the club owner back in their direction. “I want to issue a challenge.”

  The club owner clasped his hands before himself in a neutral stance. “I’m listening.”

  Apprehension swelled inside Nicolai’s gut. Dante’s rules allowed a man to issue a challenge when he wanted to take a partner claimed by someone else. Had they been about to step into a boxing ring, Nicolai would have been calm, but disagreements at Asylum were solved with games of chance.

  Ten years was a long time, but addiction was a disease without a cure. He considered the wild girl standing by his side. She’d believed in him from the start, as if his past were a hurdle that had only served to make him stronger. He hoped she was right.

  “Jackson wants to challenge you, Nicolai. Are you willing?” Dante was giving him the option to walk away, but that would mean walking away from Desiree, and there was no way Nicolai would do that.

  Nicolai indicated Jackson with a nod of his head. “If this asshole wants satisfaction, I’m willing to give it to him.”

  Dante’s eyes narrowed. “You know the rules better than anyone else, Nicolai.”

  “I do.”

  “He challenged you, so the rest is your choice. Game?”

  “Blackjack.”

  “Terms?”

  Beside him, Desiree had gone still as death. A niggling doubt wondered if this little stunt would cost him her good opinion, but now was not the time to lose faith. If he handled this just right, he might be able to shut down Jackson’s big mouth for good. “One deck, one hand, house rules, no splits, no insurance, winner takes all.”

  A tall, dark-haired man approached from the direction of the stairs. Nicolai recognized Jericho Davies, Dante’s head of security. Jericho had two contracts in hand—standard house procedure for situations just like this. Nicolai swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry. “I have an addendum to the terms, if he’s willing.”

  “I’m listening.” Dante took the contracts from Jericho.

  It was now or never. “I don’t want his money. If I win, he has to agree to leave Desiree alone for good. No cheap pick-up lines, no groping, no insinuations, no harassment.”

  Dante’s gaze shifted to Jackson. “Do you agree to those terms?”

  Jackson was busy reading over his contract. Nicolai already knew what was on the table. It might have felt as if history was repeating itself, but he was not the same man he’d been ten years ago. And the woman at his side wasn’t Katie. Desiree was worth everything he stood to lose and more.

  The satisfaction on Jackson’s face tempted Nicolai to break the rules and knock him ass over teakettle. “If I win, Desiree spends tonight with me, in my bed.”

  Desiree’s nails dug into Nicolai’s bicep until he was sure she’d removed skin. He placed his hand over hers in an attempt to soothe. “That doesn’t guarantee her submission.”

  “Whether she submits or not, if I win you’ll be running that bar for me instead of yourself.”

  Tension tied Nicolai’s spine in knots. Beside him, Desiree stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “What is he talking about?”

  “Level Four is strictly high rollers, wild girl. They don’t let you up here unless you can play with the big boys.”

  “So you put up the bar?”

  Nicolai took her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “Everything is going to work out. I promise.”

  He’d picked blackjack for several reasons. They were sound and sane, but he was feeling shaky over the prospect of losing. It wasn’t the sort of game a guy like Jackson was likely to play on a regular basis. Nicolai had played plenty of twenty-one back in the day, mostly because it didn’t require much to buy in, and the odds weren’t dependent upon the variables brought to the table by other players. It hadn’t been his game of choice. He’d spent most of his time playing seven-card stud poker, but he wasn’t in any hurry to find himself in a game like the one he’d lost ten years ago.

  She wrapped her arms around his body and laid her cheek against his chest. “Don’t do this, Nicolai. I’m the one who got into this mess. I’d rather spend one night in his bed than watch you lose your bar just because I did something stupid.”

  Nicolai felt a rush of tenderness at her willingness to sacrifice on his behalf, but hell would freeze over before he’d let it happen. He could see the wheels turning in her pretty head. He didn’t have to ask to know what strategy she would apply if the worst happened.

  “That Dante guy probably has whips and chains around here somewhere. Maybe I’ll go dominatrix on Jackson’s ass. Spank him until he agrees to quit being such a worthless bastard.” She put up a brave front, but Nicolai would never leave that encounter up to chance.

  The slight lift in the corner of Dante’s mouth indicated he approved of Desiree’s boast. “I think we can find something for you to work with.”

  “I can tell you exactly what you’ll be doing in my bed tonight, Desiree. Want me to describe it? It starts with you flat on your back with your heels behind your ears.” Jackson held an imaginary pair of legs in the air and gyrated his hips like a hormonal teenager.

  Desiree pressed her cheek against Nicolai’s arm, turning her face to brush her lips across his skin. The sensation went straight to his cock, and Nicolai bit back a groan. Her touch gave him confidence. If she wasn’t shrinking away, she might forgive him for backsliding on his Gamblers Anonymous program. It had taken him ten years to learn to manage his addiction. He could only hope he didn’t lose everything he’d gained in one high-stakes game.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicolai took a seat at the card table, sinking into the plush leather chair. He knew Dante Torres excelled at mind games. The man lived to play in other people’s heads, tweak their emotions, discover their weaknesses, and then exploit them. Now was no exception. It wasn’t enough that Nicolai was sitting at the same table he’d been at during that last disastrous game. Dante had placed his chair in the same position. Knowing Dante, it was probably the same damn chair.

  But that was then.

  Asylum was probably the only place on the Eastern Seaboard where two people could settle a disagreement with a game like blackjack. Club rules were whatever Dante decided they should be. So while Nicolai sank into a deep place in the calm recesses of his mind, Jackson butted heads with Dante over the house rules.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about your rules, Dante. Once I’m off the property, you’ve got no control over me. So really, I can’t lose.”

  Jackson wasn’t the only jackass to think his bankroll put him out of Dante’s jurisdiction. Nicolai could have warned the spoiled rich kid that messing with Torres was a losing proposition.

  “I warn you, Mr. Wilhelm, that a violation of the terms of this bet will earn you an entry onto the Asylum blacklist.” You could have frozen water on Dante’s words.

  “So what? There are half a d
ozen clubs in this area I’d rather go to.”

  “What if I told you I could bar you from any club of this sort on the Eastern Seaboard?”

  Jackson’s face twitched uneasily beneath his confident expression, but Dante wasn’t done. “Or perhaps you’re going to settle down after your marriage and quit coming to my clubs. I suppose I could be satisfied with a pound of flesh for any violations. Are you vigilant about checking your car for bombs before you get in?”

  “Are you done issuing threats?” Jackson settled himself at the table, spinning his chair from side to side and looking several shades paler than he had a moment before. “Where’s the dealer?”

  Dante picked up a deck and shuffled with expert hands. “Right here.”

  “That hardly seems fair.” It wasn’t, but Nicolai wasn’t about to join Jackson in whining about it. Dante’s club, Dante’s rules. The only thing you could be sure of was that the man had an angle.

  “A fair is something that comes to town once a year. You want to play the game, I’ll deal the cards.” Dante’s expression oozed sarcasm.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” Jackson leered across the table at Desiree. “I’m in a hurry to claim my prize.”

  Nicolai’s heart hammered against his ribcage. For the last ten years, he’d kept everything in his life under control. Now it had all come undone. He sat in a chair, ready to gamble it all away. One bad card and he’d lose his dignity, the bar, and the woman he loved more than life.

  His gaze settled on Desiree. She watched Dante shuffle, nibbling her thumbnail to hide her tension. She was so much more than he’d ever expected to find in a woman. She was more than he deserved. But she was his, and if this was what he had to do to fight for her, he’d do it.

  Seconds ago he’d been a basket case, but now the tinge of apprehension in his gut loosened. His senses focused on the table, on Dante’s hands on the cards. Beside him, Jackson began to sweat. The acrid scent exposed the nerves behind the man’s brash exterior.

  Dante dealt himself two cards, facedown. With only one deck, the cards would remain that way until both Nicolai and Jackson had called a stand. Dante took the next two cards and placed them in front of Nicolai, faceup, to reveal the queen of spades and a four of hearts.

  The deck was new. It had been well shuffled, but there was a chance it would be top-heavy. Because theirs were the only hands dealt from the deck, there was no way to manage odds. It was all a gamble. The queen’s dead eyes stared up at him. He met her gaze, feeling an icy sense of purpose.

  Nicolai waited. This was a good start, but it was an indicator that his first assessment was right and the face cards were on top. A hand like this would have been worthless in a regular game where he was trying to beat the house. Tonight it didn’t matter if he beat the house. He only had to beat Jackson.

  Jackson’s movements were big, overdone, and jerky. He stared straight at Dante, waiting for his cards to be dealt. The fingers resting on the table quivered. He reached up to scratch his nose in order to hide the telltale movement.

  Nicolai slowed his own breathing and listened to the man beside him. Jackson’s chest rose and fell quickly, though he tried to conceal it. Nicolai knew if he were to turn and look, Jackson’s pupils would be dilated, his cheeks flushed, and his skin clammy. He was excited, probably enough to act without thinking things through.

  Dante set Jackson’s first card faceup on the table. The macabre expression on the jack of diamonds gave Nicolai a jolt. He hadn’t seen that little bastard’s face since the night it had lost him everything. Exhaling long and slow, Nicolai let his feelings go with effort. He was not the same man he’d been that night. That man was gone.

  His gaze drifted upward until it locked with Desiree’s. The serenity in her expression gave him confidence he never could have found on his own. Win or lose, he had a woman who meant more than anything else in the world, and Jackson couldn’t touch that.

  Everything shifted as Dante dealt Jackson his next card. It was like watching from across the room, as if Nicolai were just a spectator. The seven of diamonds gleamed bloody in the overhead lights. Jackson’s fingers uncurled from a fist, and he hastily sliced his hand over his cards to indicate a stand.

  A murmur of surprise rose from the spectators. There it was, Jackson’s overconfident mistake. He was standing on a seventeen with a fresh deck between them. The play so far suggested Dante had done a thorough job shuffling the cards.

  “Jackson stands.” Dante put another card facedown on his own pile and then looked up. “Nicolai?”

  Nicolai wordlessly tapped the smooth surface of his cards with just the tips of his second and third fingers. Dante dipped his chin in acknowledgment and placed another card on Nicolai’s hand. The black ace of clubs nestled beside the queen and her red four.

  “Why don’t you look around for a pillow, Desiree? It’ll make the rest of the night more comfortable when you’re down on your knees servicing me.”

  A smattering of laughter drifted around those gathered to watch. Jackson’s words didn’t faze Nicolai in the least. The game wasn’t over yet. Anything between a three and a six would win it. Seven would put him over the top.

  Dante put another card on his pile and was already reaching for the next card when Nicolai indicated a hit. The six of diamonds slipped to the tabletop, coming to rest against the remainder of Nicolai’s hand with quiet finality.

  Nicolai waved his hand over his cards. “Stand.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Jackson leaped to his feet, his chair going over backward behind him.

  A svelte server brought Dante a glass of scotch on the rocks. He took a swig and indicated the cards laid out on the table. “No, that’s blackjack.”

  “What about the house? If the house wins, Desiree has to go with you.”

  Intent on Jackson’s actions, Nicolai hadn’t noticed Desiree move to stand behind him until he felt her hand on his arm. He sensed her tension, but there was no reason for it. Dante was a lot of things, but he had no interest in women who didn’t reciprocate.

  Dante flipped his own cards over: a nine, a king, an ace, and a five. “Dealer is bust. Happy?”

  “No!”

  Jackson had taken another breath to keep protesting when Desiree hauled back and coldcocked him in the face with her right hand. Stunned, he took a step backward and promptly tripped over his chair. He hit the floor to the sound of raucous laughter. Desiree made a little squeak and shook her hand as though it were on fire. It was all Nicolai could do to keep from doubling over with laughter at the sight.

  Instead, he stood up and took her hand in his. “That was a nice solid hit, wild girl. And you remembered to lead with your first two knuckles.”

  “I just wanted him to shut up.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “The two of you might want a private spot on the opposite side of the club for tonight.” Dante swirled the ice cubes around his glass, gesturing to Jackson’s undignified position on the floor. “I don’t think he’s going to give you any trouble, but milady did give his pride quite a beating.”

  Nicolai got the impression there was more going on than Jackson’s bad behavior. “If you’re offering a suite, we’ll accept.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” Dante gestured to one of the employees and turned to leave, a strangely solemn expression on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The “suite” Dante had given them for the night looked like a silken tent. The interior was a large square, the soft floor covered in thick padding, expensive linens, and strewn with pillows. The draperies were heavy, buffering the noise of the casino and creating an intimate setting.

  Desiree kicked off her shoes and walked farther in, staring up. The drapes were hung by an elaborate system of cords and pulleys that left a large opening in the ceiling. Barring the intrusion of the casino’s security team, they were afforded privacy without the feeling of claustrophobia.

  Nicolai entered the tent and dr
opped the drape behind him, sealing them in.

  Her pulse sped up until she was certain he could hear the thunder of her heart in the close space. She wanted to be there with him. She hadn’t wanted Preppy Guy. She hadn’t wanted anyone else but him since the first night she’d laid eyes on him. Before that, she suspected she’d been waiting for Nicolai to come along. She hadn’t known it was him she was waiting for, but she’d been waiting all the same.

  “Are you all right?” His rough voice rasped over her nerves, heightening her awareness.

  How should she answer? She had so many questions. But they could all wait. There was only one thing that mattered, here and now.

  “Desiree?”

  She turned to face him. “I need you, Nicolai. Right now.”

  He closed the distance between them in one stride. Cupping the back of her neck, he took possession of her lips. His tongue slid inside to caress her mouth with bold strokes. A shock wave of heat rippled through her body to her clit.

  She shifted against him, pushing her hands beneath his T-shirt. Her fingers found the twin barbells piercing his nipples. Tugging lightly, she enjoyed his reaction while she nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

  He broke away, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it. “Better?”

  “You tell me.” She dragged her nails down his chest to trace the grooves in his abdomen. Leaning forward, she took one of his piercings into her mouth.

  He hissed, pressing his hand to the back of her head. “God, that feels good.”

  “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” She unbuttoned and unzipped his fly before pushing his jeans down over his hips.

  He trailed his fingers across her back, and the sound of her zipper rent the air. A cool breeze whispered across her bare skin. He slid her dress down her body and into a puddle on the floor.

  He gave her thigh-high stockings, black lace panties, and matching bra an appreciative once-over. “Wild girl, you have great taste in underwear.”